FicWad

TITLE: CAPTAINS
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R/NC-17
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, crossdressing, swearing, graphic violence, sex
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: The Caribbean in the time of pirates. Duo Maxwell is an infamous captain pirate bored with easy lays. His life will get much more interesting when he meets the dark Navy Captain Heero Yuy in the most unusual circumstances.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi everyone and sorry for taking so long in writing this part. I had trouble in organizing the developments in a way that made sense so I did the only sensible thing: left it brewing on its own for a while and went to read fanfics instead of writing. Hope you won't be too annoyed with me... ;p There is some hints at Duo's mysterious past here, but that's still pretty nebulous. I'm warning you it will be useless to ask for explanations; those will come when I feel like it and not a minute sooner. You might know however that both the thobe/ /and the kefiyeh mentioned somewhere are both part of a traditional garb in the Middle East. Oh yeah, I heed some of your pleas and there's some 1x2, so you should bloody well enjoyed it! Speaking of bloody... oh well, you'll see by yourself.

Chapter 15 : The Daring Stowaway

Duo didn't care that he was being gagged by the intruder's hand; he wouldn't have cried for help even if he had been able to. There were various reasons for that but the main ones were that first, he would never live it down if his crew learned that he hadn't noticed an intruder immediately upon entering his cabin and second, he always worked on the principle that what was Shinigami's business was Shinigami's business and no one else's. Anyway, if his captor preferred to block his voice than restrain his arms, that was the poor sod's mistake and worked all the better for him.

Now you have to understand that nobody can have been a pirate for a number of years without having a mean streak or at least without developing one real fast. That's why Duo had no compunction in fighting dirty. It was true in every situation but even more so when his freedom was at risk. He fought with all he had: smashing his heels on his aggressor's toes, clutching at the restraining arms, jabbing his elbows between ribs, scratching and biting. For short, he was making a nuisance out of himself. The hitches with this plan were varied and plenty. The intruder was bigger, heavier and obviously stronger than he was. Duo hadn't slept for any stretch of time in days. He was bare-foot, his sole shirt offered no protection and his nails were blunt. The only thing he managed to accomplish in the end was to have the hand gagging him removed and his assailant grunting. It wasn't all that much as far as improvements went but he seized it anyway.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mustering indignation didn't take any effort given the circumstances; still, perhaps because of his exhaustion, his tone came out sounding more petulant than the righteous he was aiming for.

"Please calm yourself. I don't intent you any harm."

"Yeah sure! Why do I have trouble believing that?"

Duo was still struggling and his sarcasm came out in halting words. Heero sighed wistfully.

"I swear I just want to talk. I guess you were right thinking our next encounter wouldn't be outwardly pleasant."

Duo's attention was finally caught with this whispered comment. The voice of his abductor had seemed familiar and that last remark seemed to confirm they had met before. Curious, he angled his head back against the shoulder of the man and tried to have a look at his features. The manoeuvre put him in an ambiguous position he hadn't thought through. While he was identifying the Captain Lowe with downing comprehension, part annoyance, part excitement, he stayed oblivious to the sight he presented from above. Heero's face was a breath away from Duo's glorious features. Their gazes plunged in each other's eyes. They were panting the same air. The pirate's pale throat was on display, fine skin tight against the supple flesh as he tilted his head back. As he was so much shorter than the soldier, Duo had gotten on tiptoes and arched his back to get a better view. His almost bare bottom was pressed firmly against Heero's crotch... and he was still squirming...

The result was immediate and violent. The dignified Captain Lowe let out an undignified squawk then a hoarse groan. His eyes closed in unwanted bliss and Duo froze. The captive wasn't long in understanding what happened once he stopped struggling. The hard shape pressing in the cleft of his buttocks was glaring evidence as of his captor's desires. Duo suddenly realized what sight the both of them would have presented to any onlooker: they would most likely appear like lovers tangled in a passionate embrace. He turned beet-red and shrieked going back to his struggles with new-found energy but trying this time to keep as far away from the other's body at the same time.

"Unman me this instant you pervert! I am not a girl! Was that what you expected to get intruding in my quarters? You were sadly mistaken if you think I'll let a /queer/ grope me!"

Heero's eyes reopened instantly and he paled at the accusation. He loosened his grasp without conscious decision on his part, acting only on the instinct that he didn't want that beautiful creature to fear him. That was a stupid move of course and as soon as he did, the pirate seized the occasion to get away from him. Duo turned to eye him suspiciously and shrank back looking frantic. Realizing his mistake, Heero tried to catch him again afraid that the other would grab a weapon and attack him. Duo managed to evade the clumsy grab but he lost his footing in his panicked exhaustion. The Captain Lowe barely managed to catch him before he fell, but his rescue was seen as another attack and Duo fought him all the more. They were standing face to face, pushing and pulling, one trying to restrain without hurting, the other doing his best to hurt without being restrained.

They staggered on unsteady feet, both heaving, but neither willing to give in. It was no wonder that they ended up hitting some piece of furniture and it stood to reason that it would be the bed, as it had been the closest one since the beginning of the fight. When Duo felt the wood frame against the back of his knees, it was already too late to try and regain his footing and he was tumbling backward with a surprised yelp. Heero himself was dragged along by the momentum thanks to Duo clenching his hands on his arms in a vain effort to regain his sense of balance. The captor tumbled after his captive, falling heavily on the shell-shocked Duo and effectively trapping him on the mattress. They lay frozen a moment taking stock of their new position, disturbingly aware of how much of their bodies were really pressed against each other.

Duo squeaked and began his struggles anew unmindful of how that put his shirt in worse disarray and of how he was rubbing against his aggressor in what could appear a wanton way. Heero, on the other hand well aware of those things, was trembling with need. All his blood had gone south and the erection that never completely disappeared since Shinigami's impromptu striptease, was painfully hard once again. He wasn't able to think anymore and wasn't in any mood to consider why he shouldn't plaster himself against the lascivious body so shamelessly exposed. He plunged a hand in the thick bronze locks of his prey and clasped the other on a bony hip, profiting that the shirt had rolled up to savour the softness of the exposed skin.

Shinigami was still trying to escape but even he now had problems with keeping his body's reactions in check. He had no desire for the Captain Lowe, nor for any men really, but he was as human and healthy as anyone and close contact and friction on his naked crotch was too much to ignore. He gasped over the onslaught of unwanted pleasure and felt his penis hardening, his nipples tightening, his back arching as his body sought any kind of relief. His eyes caught and got trapped on the intense blue gaze of his captor and he couldn't suppress a needy moan. Heero's pupils dilated at the maddening sound and unable to resist such a primitive want evident in the violet eyes and flushed face, he bent to taste the generous mouth that had let that sweet moan escape.

Their lips meshed in unmitigated passion, in a kiss that was all tongue, teeth, heat and instinct. Neither of them were thinking anymore; they were just acting on a need so intensely exhilarating mere words couldn't have described it. They came together in a primal dance, a violent embrace that was old as the world and felt like nothing else save for frighteningly right. They rubbed, and grabbed, and scratched, and ground, and clenched, and bit, and at last shouted hoarsely in simultaneous orgasm. The raging wave of bliss that engulfed them was so powerful that Heero slumped forward on Duo's now still body. He felt sated on a deepest level than he had ever felt before, but couldn't yet feel anything more than that instinctive knowledge and thoughts were still an impossibility.

Shinigami however was fast regaining his senses and couldn't understand what had happened. He was terrified, like he never was; his breath was coming in short pants and he was shaking from head to toe. In his muddy head, were replaying the events, again and again. He was trying to make sense of it all without much success. He was starting to hyperventilate and couldn't find the strength to push away the heavy form of the man who was crushing him in such a disturbingly intimate way. Suddenly he knew: the Captain Lowe was the enemy! He couldn't let the soldier hurt him, he was an intruder, he had attacked him. On an impulsive gesture he hadn't even taken the time to think through, he grabbed the candelabra from the bed table and crashed it on Heero's head with deadly intent, regardless of the fact that the man was already mostly asleep.

The dull sound of metal hitting flesh resounded ominously in the silence and Duo's lips twisted in a vacant smile not unlike the one Shinigami gave his enemies before a killing blow. There was an unholy gleam in his eyes now darker than ever and he didn't look altogether sane anymore. He tried to free himself from the dead-weight and managed to haul himself against the headboard, the other's head falling in his lap. Then he saw the blood dripping from his captor's cranium and all over him, darkening the white of his shirt and pooling on his exposed skin. The smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of horror. There were still two saltpetre lamps alight in the cabin and their cold glow made the blood flow a sickening purple. It didn't even look like blood but more like ink if not for the way it oozed along the dark strands of the fallen soldier, if not for the way it felt warm and sticky against Duo's stomach and thighs.

No matter what colour it was, Shinigami could recognized the texture of blood everywhere; he had shed and seen shed so much of it. The smell was unmistakable too; that sharp metallic scent he could almost taste on his tongue. The thought alone made him nauseous and his body seized in a visceral shudder of disgust. He couldn't get far away from the body faster enough and the strength he used to literally propel it away and throw it on the floor was more instinct than reason. He didn't look where the man had landed but scrambled on the other side of the bed, pressing his back against the headboard and curled up on himself in a tight ball, hiding his face on his knees, rocking himself and murmuring half forgotten prayers. That had been a bad move as there was blood on his knees too and some got on his cheek, chin and lips. He jerked his face away and put a hand to his mouth. There was still more blood on it; there was no way to escape it, he knew. His nausea got worse, there was the acrid taste of bile in the back of his throat, but that was better, better than tasting blood. He was doing his best not to throw up and trying to regain some measure of control on his frazzled nerves, taking deep breaths, through the mouth to not risk another whiff of the horrid smell.

After a while he was calm once again... calmer anyway. As long as he didn't look at the pool of blood on the bed nor on himself, it would be fine. But he couldn't avoid the body as much as he wanted to. He had to look, had to know if he had killed him, if the man was slowly emptying himself of his blood of the floor of his cabin. He got on hands and knees and cautiously made his way on the mattress, afraid of what he would find. He was stopped on his way when he put his hand in a slimy substance that didn't feel like blood. He raised his hand and looked at the whitish goo on his palm uncomprehendingly. That was semen. He knew that. But that wasn't right. Why was it there? There hadn't been any last time. And yet he knew there was a body on the floor like last time. He knew that when he would look on the floor he would be there, pale and still in a growing pool of blood. He knew that when he would touch him, his head would fall at an unnatural angle and roll away in a morbid parody of a child's toy. He knew it. He had seen it before, again and again, so many times behind closed eyelids under the sun and in the dead of night, awake and in slumber.

He shook himself; he had to be brave, had to confront his fears. Even if he encountered the expected gruesome scene behind the bed frame, it wouldn't kill him. He had already survived it once, so long ago. Despite those inner reassurances he was trying to boost his confidence with, it was a fearful glance he threw over the floor when he reached the end of the mattress. The mind works in strange ways at times and often it deceives us, playing on our fears and other shortcomings. Duo knew that and thus shouldn't have been surprised that it showed him precisely what he didn't want to see. It wasn't anymore the Sank's officer in his too long pants, dirty shirt and ill-fitted vest, but the wasted away corpse of his best friend in the worn /thobe/. It wasn't anymore purple blood streaming with the surf on the wooden planks of his cabin's floor, but the deep red one he remembered watching soak into the sand floor and become a dull brown. The shy finger he brought forward to touch the body was trembling, so much that he missed the shoulder he was aiming for and landed on the throat, dead on the pulse point. He froze. That wasn't right. His finger should have buried in severed muscles, sunk in dead flesh and sent the head rolling away, but instead he could feel the faint throbbing of life under warm skin. Just like that, his vision cleared, the reality superimposed over the horrific delusions of his memory and he could breath once again.

No more of this nonsense! It was time to be reasonable. He had an injured stowaway soldier in his quarters. His location alone made him his responsibility even without taking into account that he had been the one to hurt him. Besides, if he didn't act with all due diligence the man would truly die on his floor and he wasn't eager to contemplate what other ghosts such occurrence would summon. Now that he was back to his senses, he had no real trouble to perform the necessary tasks in order to keep the Captain Lowe alive. He was no doctor but knew enough to care for one injured. It wasn't like he could call for assistance anyway with Doc O still bedridden in Sally's clinic. He began to staunch the blood from the head injury wincing at the sheer amount of it. Once he had located the gash, he was glad to note it wasn't as serious as he had first feared. It could have benefited from a few stitches but could do without. There had been that much blood only because all head injuries tended to bleed profusely. He pressed a cloth firmly against the cut and used a long makeshift bandage to tie it in place. He rolled it up a number of times around his unconscious patient's head, as tight as he could in the hope that the pressure would stop the bleeding. In the end, all the hair was hidden behind what reminded him of a /kefiyeh/, if a very un-stylish one. As innocuous as it seemed, he dispelled that picture too, he knew that tonight any vague remembrance of his time in Arabia could open Pandora's box.

Now that the soldier wasn't bleeding to death anymore, Duo tackled the cleaning. He wasn't enthused by the idea of the herculean task but knew he wouldn't sleep as long as there would be blood everywhere. The sullied sheets of his bed were used to staunch the mess on himself, his victim, the candelabra and the floor, then were discarded on a faraway corner of the room. He proceeded next to divest Lowe of his upper garb which was drenched too. He left him the modesty of his pants, pointedly ignoring the wet spot in the crotch area which had an altogether different origin. That accomplished, he undressed and washed himself with special care before donning a new clean shirt fairly identical to the first one. He gathered the dirty laundry in a clean sheet and went to put it out of sight in a cabinet. He watched over the still body of his stowaway and decided he wouldn't move for a while. On a sudden impulse, he marched to the door, opened it and went to the guardrail to throw his burden overboard. That was better. Quatre would have had a fit in front of such carelessness.

Getting back to his cabin at last, he didn't want anything more than to lie and finally go to sleep. However, there was another thing he had to do before succumbing to his exhaustion. In the unlikelihood that his guest would awake during the night -or the little of it that was left anyway-- it wouldn't do to leave him able to attack or run away, despite the fact that in this last case, the cumbersome man would be out of his hair. Wearily, Duo went in search of the silken ties he knew he kept somewhere. He had learned plenty of useful things in Asia and noticeably the fine art of bondage. There was some time he hadn't used this knowledge to restrain a lover and he had lost track of the ties, but not yet thrown them away. Somehow, he hadn't envisioned he would retrieve them again in such circumstances. Life as ever was full of surprises. He found what he was looking for in the depths of his weapons chest; he wondered what that said about him... Probably nothing good.

The tying itself took no time at all as it appeared that some things couldn't be forgotten. Soon, the Captain Lowe was bound like a fat turkey in a reasonably comfortable position and gagged for good measure. Duo made sure the man could breath okay through his nose and, satisfied that the breathing, albeit shallow, was steady enough to sustain him till morning, abandoned him to his fate. Provided that the blow to the head hadn't turned his brain to mush, some hours on the floor wouldn't let him the worse for wear. After all, a stowaway couldn't really expect much more in the matters of hospitality. He was lucky enough that Duo had been too wary to wake the remainder of his crew and too tired himself to throw him in the hold as he would have done otherwise.

At any other time, the events of the night would have made sleeping impossible for Shinigami, but at the point when he finally lay down on his bed he was so exhausted that he couldn't even think anymore. That was a blessing in itself because his usual thoughts weren't things anyone would have wished to contemplate. His broken body got the better deal for once and Duo fell into oblivion as soon as his head touched the pillow with an ease he hadn't known in years.

The rest of the night was mercifully without further disasters. Duo's slumber was plagued by a few muddle nightmares of course, but nothing worse than he was used to, in spite of the painful memories the evening's events had dragged out. There was still that to be grateful for.

His well-deserved peace was however disturbed far too early for his tastes by the thunderous intrusion of an over-enthusiastic Quatre. The Prince had thrown the door open without an ounce of his usual decorum and propelled himself on Duo's bed with an amount of vigour that must be prohibited -or otherwise should-at that time of the morning. His only redeeming feat was that he had brought breakfast with him and a full pot of very strong coffee instead of the bland tea he was always trying to inflict on everyone.

The reason for that unwanted invasion of good cheer was the encounter of the previous night and Duo's promise that they would investigate the matter. In Quatre's books, that had meant they would get to it as soon as humanly possible and in hindsight, Duo realized he had been overly optimistic in thinking his friends would be sensible enough to let him the chance to rest before that. Quatre was keeping him under a steady fire of suggestions on how to begin the investigation. Most of them were lost against the drowsiness of Shinigami and it was only after he had downed most of the coffee, that he was in any condition to give his input.

"We could still go to Hilde. She's bound to know something..."

"Oh I don't think so Mister. Last time we went there she said she'd skewer you if you ever dared to come back. I trust she's the kind of girl to keep with her threats."

"Oooooh!!! I didn't think you cared that much about me Quatre."

Quatre lifted his nose haughtily. "I don't! It's just that I dislike open wounds and as our luck goes lately, chances are I'll have to watch."

Duo wasn't completely disagreeing on the matter. Hilde was known to be violent and they hadn't parted on the best of terms -euphemism if you ever heard of one. Still, in spite of the danger inherent to such a visit, it might be one of their best shot, maybe even the only one they would get. The girl was stubborn sure, but she had a good heart and she might help them simply because it was the right thing to do and in respect of some old loyalty to Deathscythe's crew. After all, her quarrel was only with Duo himself, not the entire team. He was about to share his thoughts with his friend when he noticed the stupefaction and open curiosity on the fair features. He caught Quatre's gaze and was troubled by the mischievous glint in the blue eyes. He was wondering what it was all about when the blond nodded to the far end of the cabin and inquired with false casualness:

"So Captain, why is there a half-naked man on your floor? And... is that what they call bondage?"

Duo who had till then forgotten everything about his unwanted guest, groaned in humiliation. He had a feeling the new day wouldn't be any good either if that start was any indication. He should really begin to lock his door against intruders from now on seeing that his privacy seemed to be of no one's concern...